


The Mercy of the Living

by thehoundandthebird



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bonds, Canon-Typical Violence, Death, Declarations Of Love, F/M, Family, Female Protagonist, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Love, Male Protagonist, Male-Female Friendship, Now and Then Story, POV Third Person, Sacrifice, Season/Series 10, Supernatural - Freeform, Supernatural AU - Freeform, The Darkness (Supernatural), The Mercy of the Living, horsemen of the apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-04-01 13:09:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4020991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehoundandthebird/pseuds/thehoundandthebird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Warning: Season 10 Spoilers Ahead</p><p>  After Sam and Castiel's secrets are revealed, after Charlie's death, Dean finally snaps. He takes out the Louisiana Styne family for revenge on Charlie's life and nearly kills Castiel, who tries to stop him from leaving. The Mark is starting to have more of an affect on Dean, slowly poisoning his mind with violence and anger. So he leaves, not wanting to cause any more damage.</p><p>  As a last ditch effort, Sam and Cas enlist the help of an old friend. But will she risk the peace found in her new life to help the Winchesters one last time? Or will she stay out of the matter to retain what sanity she has left?</p><p>  ***<br/>Wanted to put this out there that this was written before Season 11's release. All of the ideas pertaining to the Darkness are those created by myself. If you would like to use this idea, please ask my permission first. </p><p>Best Wishes,<br/>~Sandra</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Seven Bridges Road

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raven_with_a_writing_desk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raven_with_a_writing_desk/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A woman stood in the middle of a gloomy dinner. Blood splatter covered her clothes and the surrounding walls. The blade in her hand was soaked with the crimson liquid and a steady stream of it dripped onto the floor. A sea of demon corpses lay at her feet. They surrounded her and filled nearly every inch of the tacky linoleum flooring. An uncontrollable rage rattled her body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to give you all fair warning: You will most likely be confused about this entire story. It kinda starts off with a random scene from the characters' pasts. However, I set up this story so that you get to know them as you read-- mainly the character Jeyne (Jane). You don't really know her or her relationship with the Brothers' Winchester, but the story-- a slow burning one-- will reveal who she is and what she is meant to be, as well as who she is to Sam and Dean. 
> 
> So if you're up to learning who Jeyne is through their experiences today, then I hope you enjoy the story! ALSO, be warned that this story is, at least I hope will be, a slow-burn.  
> ~Woof♥

The Mercy of the Living

A Supernatural Fan Fiction  
By: thehoundandthebird

_**Author’s Note: Hello and welcome to the new and improved The Mercy of the Living! Thanks loads for being patient (though I know it wasn't very long) and I hope that you enjoy what I have recreated. Now, I would like to add that though the below section has been taken from the original story, as many parts will be, but has had some obvious tweaks here and there so for those of you who have read this before, please don't overlook these parts: They are not identical and they have been given a new flare.** _

_**Thank you and enjoy your read,** _  
_**-S** _

_**P.S. Here is a link to the songs that inspired this work. They are[here ](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLLnjUa8tjRnWMSEzl9G2-TZQacc4LfxfB)for your listening pleasure as you read.** _

_**P.P.S. Please pardon any grammatical errors-- they will be fixed on the morrow of the day this has been published.** _

Chapter 1: Seven Bridges Road

_Then_

_A woman stood in the middle of a gloomy diner. Blood splatter covered her clothes and the surrounding walls. The blade in her hand was soaked with the crimson liquid and a steady stream of it dripped onto the floor. A sea of demon corpses lay at her feet. They surrounded her and filled nearly every inch of the tacky linoleum flooring. An uncontrollable rage rattled her body._

_She had gotten her revenge on the demon who killed her brother weeks ago. However, it hadn’t been enough. And something told her it would never be enough. There were still so many others of his filthy kind roaming the Earth, and each one was as equally guilty as the demon that tortured and killed Cliff. The more scum she could get her hands on, the more justice she could dole out, the better._

_Dean was too busy playing Death that day to help her, so she was alone on her mission; though she was certain he would enjoy the stories of her time hunting alone. Oh, he would be proud indeed._

_The Huntress, a twisted smile on her face, took one last look at the justice served—her masterpiece—and turned to leave. She wiped her face clean of any emotion and made her way towards the exit. Appearing before her, gun at the ready, was none other than Dean Winchester. Perhaps it was better he saw her work of art. Seeing was better than listening. Words don’t always capture beauty._

_“Jeyne...” was all the hunter could manage. He looked around the room, shock apparent on his face._

_“Why do you look so horrified? Isn’t it beautiful?” She gestured to the carnage at her feet._

_“No... No, this is bat crap crazy._ That’s _what this is,” Dean replied, his tone incredulous._

_“Saving people, hunting things—the family business: Isn’t that what we do?” she asked, confused. “Or is demons slaughtering people and tearing families apart an acceptable practice?_

_“I never said that,” he replied. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m as happy as the next hunter that there are less evil douche bags in the world. Fan-freaking-tastic. Good for you, Huntress! You ganked a bunch of demons. But have you ever thought of all the people that you killed in the process? Some of those bodies had living souls trapped inside, I bet. And you killed them.”_

_“I did them a kindness—”_

_“Is that you what you_ really _think? I bet there are a lot of dead people that would disagree. We save people, Jeyne. As many as we can. We don’t kill them.”_

_“They were beyond saving, Dean.”_

_“Says who?!”_

_“Says me!”_

_“And what makes you_ think _that you get the right to decide that for them?”_

_“The foul things crawling around inside of them! They were suffering at their hands!”_

_“That still doesn’t make you God!” he yelled. “They wanted to live! They wanted for the nightmare to end, not for their lives to end.”_

_“What makes you an expert?”_

_Dean pulled the collar of his shirt down and to the left. “There’s a reason why I got this tattooed. Or did you forget that I was possessed—that you had been, too? I fought against a demon that wore me like a meat-suit because I wanted to live! You took that away from them. There comes a time where this crazy mission of yours has gotta end. ‘Cause if it don’t, ‘cause if you don’t change, Jeyne, you’ll be so far gone that you’ll forget yourself; that you eventually become the things that we hunt. You’re gonna be the monster and I’ll have to gank you. That’s a day I never want to see.”_

_With each word that came rolling off his tongue, Jeyne’s resolve began to weaken. Through her crazed state, parts of herself began to break down the walls. She could not let this happen. “Get out of my way, Dean.” She tried to push past him, wanting nothing but to get away._

_Dean grabbed hold of her by the shoulder and shoved her backwards. “Oh no, we aren’t leaving until I know you won’t go on any more of these suicide missions.”_

_“Promise,” she said hollowly._

_“Not good enough,” he said firmly._

_“Why not?” she hissed._

_He gestured to her. “Because this ain’t Jeyne talking: it’s the crazy psycho-bitch that’s flapping her gums, handing out empty promises.”_

_There was a moment of silence. Jeyne’s breaths were rapid and ragged. Dean stood by patiently, gun in hand, watching the conflict play out in her eyes. She hesitated with something to say and he saw a part of the person he knew. But something dark flashed past her eyes and she was gone. “Hate to be the bearer of bad news, Deano, but I’m not stopping until every demon scum is dead.”_

_Dean had been prepared for her outburst. She roared, the demon knife raised as she ran full tilt towards him. He deflected her attack easy enough, disarming her effectively which sent the knife skittering across the floor and out of reach. Jeyne used his brief distraction to her advantage: She stomped on his foot and head butted him. He fell backwards against the doorframe and she made a bee-line for the blade._

_Dean quickly regained his sense and tackled her to the ground. She yelped. He spun her around and punched her twice, cringing as he did so. Dean didn’t want to hurt her—the very last thing from it. But if she was going to put up a fight, he would force himself to reply in kind; he would show that he would do what he had to._

_He returned her head butt and she grunted. However, there was still plenty of fight in her. Jeyne punched Dean in the jaw and when he reeled backwards she kneed him in the groin. He grunted loudly and rolled off of her. She scrambled to her feet, trying desperately to reach the blade. There was nothing she wanted than get what she wanted and leave; to hunt down more demons. Fighting Dean, the man she care for more than she did for her herself, was draining her, tearing her apart. And her facade was rapidly crumbling as each second ticked by._

_She had to avenge Cliff... she had to._

_Just as Jeyne clumsily bent down to grab the blade Dean was there to knock her feet out from underneath her with a swift kick to her ankles. He dragged her backwards by the leg while she was still on her stomach. Dean flipped the Huntress onto her back as she continued to struggle violently against him; almost landing a few punches as she did so._

_Dean sat on her torso and pinned her wrists to the ground with his large hands. His lip was bloodied and her forehead wept blood where glass had cut her from the fall._

_“Dean, let me go!” she screamed, struggling to keep her tears at bay. “I have to do this.”_

_No,” he said firmly, “you don’t and I won’t stand by and watch you become a monster.”_

_“Let me go. They—they killed him!” she yelled in anguish._

_“And you got your revenge—I watched you kill the bastard with my own eyes,” he replied. “What good did that do you, huh? None. I bet you feel just as bad as the day Clifford died, if not worse. I bet it feels like there’s a gaping hole in your chest that no amount of dead demons can fill. Killing all the demons in existence is_ not _gonna bring him back. This has gotta stop. Today. Now.”_

_“I can’t—” she cried, her voice wavering._

_“You can and you_ will _,” he said firmly, though not harshly. “If I can move on from half the crap I’ve gone through—from my parents’ deaths to all the countless that follow—you can get through this. You’re stronger than you think, baby girl, and don’t for a second that you aren’t. You don’t have to do this alone.”_

_Whatever fight she had slowly left her. What words she had to utter died on her lips. She let out an inhuman wail as the rest of her emotions broke down the walls and all the pain and sorrow she kept buried came crashing to the forefront of her mind. Jeyne screamed and sobbed. Dean was quick to take her into his arms, desperately holding her to his chest. Jeyne was out of the danger zone for now. He sighed quietly into her hair, relieved._

_Neither of them could remember how long they had done so, but they clung to each other as if their lives depended on it. Dean rocked her in his arms; the one hand cradled the back of her head and the other was at the small of her back. They sat there amongst the demon corpses until Jeyne cried herself dry and, exhausted, fell asleep._

_Jeyne woke up a day later at Bobby’s. Dean was at her side, asleep on the floor. Their fingertips almost touched as if he had fallen asleep holding her hand._

_***_

Jeyne drew in a sharp breath as her eyes flew open.  Her grey eyes were wet, as if she had been crying in her fitful sleep. It was something that often happened in recent weeks. All that recently transpired had taken its toll on her. Sam went to and returned from Hell, Cliff was murdered, she went on a killing spree, Dean played Death, Sam got his soul back. Everything had eaten at her resolve and she could no longer stand to live this kind of life: the Hunter’s life.

The death and destruction that was left in their wake wasn’t worth it. The amount of people alive versus those that died were growing few and far in between. And the only reason why she lingered was to make sure Death’s barrier had indeed blocked Sam’s memories of Hell. His soul was tortured by Lucifer and Michael while imprisoned there. It was imperative that its blocking powers remained intact lest the memories tear him apart.

So far so good. They would be fine if she left... They would finally be all right.

Jeyne removed herself from her bed. She slipped down the creaking hallway on the upper level of Bobby’s house and into Dean’s room. This was another regular occurrence. The Winchester wakes up when the door clicks shut, pulling the knife from under his pillow. However, he relaxes when he sees a distraught Jeyne turning towards him. In the light of moon, he could see the hair was braided and it was messy from a restless sleep. Her eyes were blotchy, like she had once again cried in her sleep. He concluded another nightmare had presented itself—perhaps the same one.

Silently, he invited her to sleep next to him. He pulled the sheets aside and patted the bed beside him. Jeyne crawled in beside Dean and he wrapped his arms around her. She rested her head in the crook of his neck and curled into his side. Tears fell silently from her eyes.

Dean took a deep breath and sang to her:

 _There are stars in the southern skies_  
_Southward as you go._  
_There is moonlight and moss in the trees_  
_down the Seven Bridges Road._

 _Now I have loved you like a baby_  
_like some lonesome child_  
_And I have loved you in a tame way_  
_and I have loved you wild._

 _Sometimes there’s a part of me_  
_has to turn and go_  
_Running like a child from these warm stars_  
_Down the Seven Bridges Road_

 _Now there are stars in the southern sky_  
_and if ever you decide you should go_  
_There is a taste of team sweetened honey_  
_down the Seven Bridges Road._

Dean always sang Seven Bridges Road when she couldn’t sleep—even when they were friends back in high school. But this time, unbeknownst to him, she only wanted to hear him sing one last time. `She feigned her sleep, felt his hand brush some hair from her face. Soon, his breaths became slow and even and he began to snore softly.

She would be gone with the morning sun.

Jeyne remained in his arms until she was sure he was deeply asleep. She removed herself from his grasps and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. Her lips lingered a moment before she forced herself from his presence. Her feet brought her back to her room. There Jeyne changed quickly into her clothes, grabbed her duffel bag and three envelopes. One she placed in Sam’s room, the next in Dean’s and the last on the kitchen table next to a 24 of Bobby’s favourite beer. It read:

_Take care of my boys.  
—J. _

She stifled a sob as she passed the threshold of the house. Jeyne made her way through the deserted scrap yard to her truck. Her knuckles turned white as she clutched the side of the truck’s bed. Shuddering breaths began to leave her and large tears seeped from her eyes.

With a deep breath, Jeyne unsheathed her hunting knife and strode to Bobby’s truck. It slashed through rubber like a knife through butter. One after the other, each tired was relieved of air. The woman stopped in front of the beat and battered Impala and decided that it was damaged enough by Rose Brown’s spirit that Dean wouldn’t be able to follow her.

Swift footsteps brought Jeyne to her black 1950 Chevy pickup, one Bobby helped her restore years ago, and she climbed into the cab, slamming the door. Someone was bound to have heard the noise. The engine roared to life. Just as the truck swung around to leave, Dean, followed tiredly by Sam and Bobby—Bobby who stood by with unsurprised expression on his face and understanding in his eyes—burst through the door. She glanced at each of their faces through the rear view mirror and committed them to memory. Bobby first, Sam next and Dean, clad in a t-shirt and boxers, last. Grey eyes lingered a moment on his form a moment longer than the others.

The look Dean gave her, one of sorrow, begging her to stay; she could be persuaded to stay. But as the man took a step forward, Jeyne threw the truck into gear and left a cloud of dust behind her as she took off down the gravel driveway and into the first rays of grey morning light.

“No... No! JEYNE, WAIT!” Dean went to run after the truck but Bobby quickly restrained him. “She ain’t comin’ back, Dean,” he said as gently as he could. “And there ain’t nothin’ you can do to change her mind. She’s had enough.”

He yanked himself free from Bobby’s grasp and strode back into the house, his expression solemn.

Distant shouts made it to her ears. A long finger flicked on the radio so she could drown out their voices and her thoughts. _Tomorrow Is a Long Time_ by Bob Dylan faded in and she allowed herself to silently grieve for what she left behind.

A flutter of wings drew her from her thoughts and she knew he was there. In her periphery she would see his blonde comb over shinning like a halo in the light of the rising sun.

“Why do you subject yourself to such torture?” the angel asked calmly.

Jeyne swallowed hard, keeping her eyes on the road. “Because I—I have to do what is right for myself,” she said through her tears.

The celestial being nodded his head. “Yes, I understand this. But why must it cause you such discomfort? If it is supposed to do you good, why is there torment in your heart?”

She sniffled. “The right things are often never the easiest to do.”

He nodded his head in response. There was a long moment of silence. “If you wish it, I could transport you and your motorized vehicle to your destination.”

Jeyne shook her head. “No, Adriel. That won’t be necessary.” Her voice was shaky. “If you could meet me there, I’d appreciate it. I... I need time alone.”

“As you wish, doll face.” And with a soft beat of his wings, the angel was gone. Jeyne let her tears flow freely in his absence, grieving for the life she left behind... and the love that could have been.


	2. Tomorrow Is A Long Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was as Sam said: Dean stopped at nothing to save those he loved, himself included, and they owed him that much in return. Castiel didn’t have to like what was going to happen next—despised the very idea of using dark magic—but no viable alternatives had presented themselves. The Book of the Damned was their only salvation. And they needed everyone together when the spell was cast for whatever storm would follow next—even her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this one took so long to come out. It's been hard to get back into the swing of writing. Had a loss in the family over a month ago and it was hard to do much of anything, except work. Hopefully this helps to satisfy some of the waiting. Chapter 3 will be a short one, but should be out sooner rather than later.  
> ~Woof♥

Chapter 2: Tomorrow Is a Long Time

_*Now*_

Each Blow to his face dissolved Castiel’s resolve. He had spent days in search of Dean. Sam had tasked Castiel with his brother while he stayed with Rowena; he had asked Cas to make sure his brother didn’t ‘go too far off the reservation’. However, as his fist collided with his vessel’s cheek with a sickening crunch, it occurred to him that he failed his mission. Again.

More importantly, he failed Dean.

His eyes met those full of malice. They pleaded with them to end this suffering, to stop in his path away from the light. It went unnoticed: Dean’s fist collided with Castiel’s bloodied face. Again. And again. The Hunter reached for the angel blade and raised it above his head, ready to deliver the killing blow. Green eyes met blue and through his haze of anger he saw his friend; he saw the ruin of his face and paused a moment.

“Dean,” the celestial being garbled. Blood left his lips. “Please...”

The blade rose back over the Hunter’s head. Castiel closed his eyes, knowing the end was near. He brought forth the memories of a younger Dean and projected them onto the backs of his eyelids. If this was to be his last moment alive, he didn’t want the murderous psychopath to be the last thing he saw. He wanted to see Dean as he was... as he was meant to be. But the end didn’t come. His ears heard a thud as the blade was rammed into a pile of books to the left of his head. An inaudible sigh left his lips as Dean rose to his feet.

And with a coldness unbefitting the eldest Winchester, he turned to the angel and said, “You and Sam stay the _hell_ away from me. Next time I won’t miss.” When Castiel angled his head to better see him, Dean was gone.

The emptiness that had begun spreading through him since the beginning of this ordeal grew even bigger still. Since he caught wind of Dean’s affliction, Cas had been searching high and low for a cure. And now that the end of the line was in sight, he unwillingly accepted the spell as the only solution. He recalled years earlier when Dean fought to get Sam’s soul back. Jeyne had taken his side that day. He remembered the conversation clearly.

_Castiel was going to be straight with Dean. “Sam’s soul has been locked in the cage with Michael and Lucifer. If we try to force that mutilated thing down his gullet, it could be catastrophic.”_

_“He needs his soul,” Jeyne rebuked._

_“Look,” said the Winchester, “we get it back and if there are complications then we’ll figure out a way to deal with those, too.”_

It was as Sam said: Dean stopped at nothing to save those he loved, himself included, and they owed him that much in return. Castiel didn’t have to like what was going to happen next—despised the very idea of using dark magic—but no viable alternatives had presented themselves. The Book of the Damned was their only salvation. And they needed everyone together when the spell was cast for whatever storm would follow next—even _her_.

Sam burst into the room, gun at the ready, as Castiel attempted to sit up. “Cas!” he cried. “Are you ok? What happened?”

“Your brother,” he grumbled.

“Where is he, Cas? Where’s Dean?” he asked, hurried.

“Gone.” Sam helped him into a sitting position. “He said to stay away from him... that next... next time he won’t miss.” He gestured with a wince to where his blade stuck out from the books.

“I’m going after him,” Sam said.

Castiel grabbed Sam’s forearm. “No,” he said firmly. “It’s too dangerous. I know he’s your brother and you’ll insist he won’t hurt you... but you were not there, Sam. He is relentless. He _will_ kill you. The best way we can help him now is to find the ingredients for the spell, send out feelers to everyone we know and get everyone on board—even... even Jeyne.”

There was a pause and Sam’s expression dropped. “Are you sure she’ll come back?” Sam’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. He hadn’t been angry when she left. In fact, he understood her completely. However, she made it clear she didn’t want any contact. Sam had tested that theory many a time, texting her on her birthdays and holidays only to go unnoticed and ignored.

Castiel nodded his head. “Yes,” he affirmed. “If not for myself or you, she’d come back for Dean. I know now how she felt... We will need everyone onboard to deal with the consequences to come, Jeyne included.”

“Okay... All right,” he said quietly, nodding his head. “I’ll give her a call. Just don’t—don’t get your hopes up.”

“I have every confidence in her.”

Sam nodded again, unsure whether he was doing the right thing. He retrieved the phone from his jacket pocket, and stepped over the Styne henchmen to make his call. They would have to salt and burn them later.

* * *

 

Jeyne held the door for Rusty and David as they filed one after the other out of the garage. She slipped the key into the lock and closed the auto shop. The young woman turned to the mechanic and his apprentice with a smile on her face. “One week away from my two favourite people in the entire world! What will I do with myself?” She strode over to them, bringing them in into a warm hug.

Rusty pulled her to him. He reminded her so much of Bobby—the beard, his mechanical prowess, his wise nature (despite his shabby appearance); his blue baseball cap, and, of course, the fatherly ‘I don’t take no shit’ attitude. “Oh, you’ll do without us just fine, kiddo.”

“Too ashamed to admit you’ll miss me, old man?”

“Oh yeah,” he laughs sarcastically. “Ain’t like you make my day any better with that smartass nature of yours. Nah, you know I’ll miss yah. Same with ol’ doe-eyes over there.”

“I won’t even deny it,” David said with a smile. He opened his arms for a hug which Jeyne accepted with a smile and a roll of her eyes, “The three of us will have to go for drinks at some time in the coming weeks.”

“As long as you’re buying,” Jeyne winked.

“Wouldn’t dream of having it any other way,” he replied warmly.

Rusty rolled his eyes at them “Ok, stop making goo-goo eyes at each other, ‘specially if you ain’t got the balls to ask her out. It just makes me sick.”

Jeyne rolled her eyes in turn. “Not my fault I’m a devilishly handsome woman. Besides, he’s the one making ‘goo-goo eyes’—not me.”

There was a hint of a blush on David’s face. “See you, Ramsay.”

The woman saluted her friends as she backed towards her truck. She heard Rusty smack the back of David’s head as he muttered, “Idjit,” and she laughed softly. There was a night of catching up to do—there were plenty of episodes of _Once Upon A Time_ that needed watching. It was a guilty pleasure—she liked the material well enough but loved pointing out any inaccuracies the show made when it came to the supernatural.

Jeyne’s drives home were usually quiet. The cab would be filled with softly playing rock music, which filtered from the old radio. Those drives gave her the time she needed to reflect. It was the perfect opportunity to remind her of the many drives taken with the Brothers’ Winchester. On nights where there wasn’t much left to say, usually after the conclusion of case, Dean’s favourite rock bands would filter through the car. Sam was usually sitting beside his brother, as it had always been, and Jeyne would normally sit behind Dean in the back of the Impala. She spent nights like those simply gazing at the stars; either for their beauty or while in deep contemplation of what else could be out there. Sam would watch the trees as they flew by and Dean, whenever he got the chance to take his eyes off the road, would look at the sky as well.

Contrary to popular stereotypes, Jeyne thought about Dean, Sam, and all those she left behind. There wasn’t a day that passed where they didn’t grace her thoughts. However it was only while she drove that she allowed herself to let them do so. The rest of her time was spent moving on and continuing the life she built for herself.

Once Jeyne returned home the night following her departure, Adriel had been waiting for her. He sat on the doorstep of her old family home, his blue eyes closed. His blonde hair was combed to the side, as was the style in the 40’s—when he was last on Earth—and was sharply dressed in a black suit, white dress shirt, and a beige trench coat. He very much reminded her of Captain America. When the engine turned off, he opened his eyes and offered Jeyne an awkward hug. The celestial being ushered her inside, where they spent hours warding her house against all known creatures. She was well versed in most wards, except enochian. Adriel painted all the enochian wards in invisible ink, just as they had done for all the others.

With his heavenly powers, he lined the window sills and doorways with salt-laced iron while Jeyne put the final touches on the Devil’s Trap beneath her doormat. When she turned off the UV light, Adriel stood before her with a tome in his hands. He presented her with a tome of enochian words and their meaning; one of his own making.

And he was gone before she could thank him.

Jeyne killed the engine when she arrived home. The night was clear and crisp. She made her way to the front of her house. There, she took a moment to look over the escarpment to the city lights below her and the stars in the sky above. She broke her rule and allowed herself a moment longer to think of Sam and Dean. Grey eyes closed and when she opened them, she could see them beside her. And for a moment she could believe they were really standing next to her; Dean with his hands in his faded brown leather jacket pockets, and Sam smiling at her as he said something of interest. But when she blinked, Sam disappeared. She blinked a second time and Dean’s mirage faded into the night.

As Jeyne entered her house, she left her phone in the dish on the table, along with her keys. She proceeded to change out of her work clothes—it was her turn to work the desk at the shop—and into her comfy clothes. After the popcorn had been popped and the lineup of _Once Upon A_ Time episodes were programmed onto her TV, she sat down to enjoy a quiet night.

Across the room, the cell screen lit up with Sam’s smiling face.

Hours later, as the light of a new day began to dawn, Jeyne shuffled to the foyer to grab her phone. She didn’t glance at the messages, instead opting for some sleep. It was fitful sleep. A nightmare she hadn’t dreamt in years had come to her. One with a sea of demon corpses and a hunter: A memory she wish she could erase from her mind.

The alarm clock on her bedside table read 4 hours since she closed her eyes—10 am. It was better than no sleep—which happened often. Slender fingers wrapped around the phone. Usually she didn’t pay any mind to the notifications but when her eyes caught sight of ‘1 missed call from: Sam’ and ‘1 new voicemail,’ she swallowed hard. Jeyne was apprehensive about the combination. No one really called her. She communicated mostly by text.

A call meant something serious. A message meant something _very serious._ She didn’t want to listen to what he had to say, knowing it could change everything she had built for herself in her new life. It would be easier to let the voicemail to delete itself after another twenty-four hours, and simply ignore its existence.

But Jeyne never did things the easy way.

After a moment longer of deliberation, she listened to the message. “Jeyne? Hey, it’s Sam. Sam Winchester. Dean’s boogied on down to funkytown... Listen, I wouldn’t be calling you unless I was out of my depth and this time I know I’ve bit off more than I can chew. Hell, I ate the entire cake. I understand if you can’t come back, not even for a little while. You made it clear to all of us that you don’t want a part in our lives. But please consider it. Cas needs you, I need you... Dean needs you. Call me.”

Jeyne inhaled deeply and tried to calm herself. Karma caught up to her: she left them without saying anything, even if there were notes; she allowed herself to ignore their existence, she allowed herself a few moments longer to dwell on them than she normally would have, to think about her old life, and not twelve hours later Jeyne is being asked for help.

Sam had often sent texts—only he knew her new number, as she trusted him not to call her repeatedly, as Dean would have if he got the chance. He would wish her a Merry Christmas or a Happy New Year, and often he would send a card for her birthday. On the years he couldn’t, a text would take its place. However, she never answered him. She feared it would spark something in her, like a want to return... and if they asked her to, if she got familiar with them again, she would do so in a heartbeat.

Jeyne’s thumb hovered over Sam’s phone number. She had wanted to avoid returning to the life of the Hunter at all costs. However if Sam called her after close to 4 years of silence, she knew that she had to, at the very least, hear what Sam had to say. Besides, it would be nice to hear a familiar voice.

She brought the phone to her ear as it began to ring. It wasn’t long until someone picked up. “Yeah?”

The young woman was silent for a moment, a sad smile on her lips. “Hello?” Sam said into the receiver.

“Hey, Sammy,” she replied gently.

Sam sighed heavily and she could picture him running a hand through his hair. “I thought you wouldn’t get back to me.”

“Honestly, I wasn’t sure I would either.” Sam chuckled and she smiled brighter, chuckling along briefly. After another lapse in silence, she asked, “What’s going on, Sam?”

The youngest Winchester could be heard swallowing deeply. “It’s a long story, one I think is best said face to face.”

“Okay,” she replied. “If you want to do that, you’re coming here. Bring Cas if you need to. I’ve got more than enough room for the both of you. Dean, too, if he’s safe to bring along.”

“Yeah, about that... Dean’s gone missing. I don’t want to be away unless he comes back. We’ve got our hands full looking for him—”

“He’s not coming back, Sam,” Castiel could be heard faintly in the background. “Let’s go to Canada and see Jeyne.” There was a long pause, like Sam was reluctant to agree with Castiel’s plan. “We can still track him while we’re there, Sam. Maybe Jeyne will want to help.”

After another pause, in which Sam sighed, he replied, “You live at the same address?”

“Of course...” Jeyne replies softly. “I got all your cards, by the way. Thank you.”

“Yeah... We’ll be there tomorrow night,” Sam said, exasperated.

“If I’m asleep, there’s a spare key under a hollow rock in the garden to the right of the door. Let yourselves in.”

“Okay. Yeah... Bye, Huntress.”

“Drive safe, Sam.”

The line went silent on the other end.

* * *

 

He parked the Impala across from his room. Another case met a brutal end. Someone died by his hands. Dean knew someone could come looking for him, but he would be long gone. There was a lot of ground to cover and barely enough time to do it. No one would find him. He was on a mission and no one could deter him. No one but her... She was hundreds of miles away, though. The last time she saw him, she made it clear with her taillights that she didn’t mean to come back—ever.

She would no longer be a problem.

Dean quickly crossed the threshold of his room and strode towards the washroom. Blood caked his hands and it was adamant that he scrub himself clean.

The water flowing across his hands ran scorching hot from the tap. Blood ran down the drain, leaving long elegant tails as they entered oblivion. However, after the blood was gone, he kept scrubbing his hands. There was still blood there, blood no one else but he could see. And he scrubbed hard and faster and with fury. Pictures of all the faces that he died by his hand or died because or for him flashed past his eyes. Bobby, John, Charlie, Rudy, Ellen, Jo, Gabriel. So many faces. So many _dead_ faces. Too many to count. They ran in an endless loop, each one taking place of his own reflection in the mirror. Over and over and around and around they went until it was too much; until the anger and the sorrow and the regret all boiled relentlessly to the surface and he punched the mirror, creating a spider web pattern of broken shards. And when he finally looked at his reflection, all he could see was a thousand fragments of himself... because that’s all he was.

A broken man.

Dean stormed into the bedroom where she grabbed the TV and smashed it. He turned over the dresser and bed. He destroyed everything that was in reach because that was all he had ever been good at: taking everything that is good in the world and destroying it. The lives he had saved didn’t bring back the lives he couldn’t—the lives that truly mattered to him. Everyone that he loves has died or will die.

And as Dean looked about the chaos he created in his room, he knew what he had to do. He would do anything to remove the Mark, even if he had to come face to face Death for the last time.

 

 


	3. Gravity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In some sort of sense, telling Jeyne about who he really was lifted a huge weight from his shoulders. It also scared the piss out of him—he was telling the truth to the one person he never wanted to know about his life… about his true self and he didn’t want to lose her. Dean had always been himself around her. But like any other person, he kept truths from her. He was allowed to have his secrets, though he had never once told her a lie. There was still some dread, however, as her silence filled the room. It was like the clock had stopped ticking and time stood still; his future revolving around what she would say next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to my lovely friend and editor, Jackie, who really helped me put this chapter together.

Chapter 3: Gravity

_*Then*_

Jeyne removed the key from the lock on the door to the autoshop and placed it carefully into her pocket. It was late, the sun having set hours ago. She had lingered in the university’s shop to continue the repairs on her truck. Some idiot crashed into Jeyne some weeks ago and took off, leaving her poor truck in horrible shape. This sucker had been through a lot—it had been built to last—but it only took her one measly Mazda to put her out of commission.

She sighed heavily as she gazed through the small window. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Stranger,” Jeyne said quietly. With one final look, she set off for Jess’s apartment. It had been a few nights since she received a call from her best friend. Sam had gone with his brother, Dean, in search of their missing father.  Though this wouldn’t have normally bothered Jess, she fully comprehended her concern when she was told about the way Sam’s brother, Dean, and his father had treated him when he finally decided he wanted more out of life. She was shocked to hear it. Jeyne knew John Winchester had been strict, but never unsupportive of his sons’ endeavours.

Naturally, Jeyne offered to stay with her worried friend until Sam’s return. Jess accepted it with relief. That night they watched _FRIENDS_ to distract themselves and fell asleep in Jess’s bed. Jeyne was a firm believer that something good could always be made out of the bad.

When Jeyne crossed the threshold to the apartment, she sighed tiredly, happy to know she would soon be asleep. Her shoes slipped from her feet and her slender fingers flicked the lights on. “Wait until you hear the night I’ve had,” she called out into the room. No response came. However, the sound of the running shower assuaged her fears. Tired limbs carried Jeyne to the kitchen where she helped herself to two freshly baked cookies and a beer from the fridge. She deserve this after the stressful day she had. It was nothing but one problem after the other. First the paint colour for Stranger—her classic ‘50’s Chevy pickup—had been wrong, next the replacement parts for the pistons had been put on back order, and some newbie kept using her personal tools.

Eventually, Jeyne found herself in the bedroom. FRIENDS was playing on the TV and she settled in to watch it. Laughter bubbled out of her as Joey delivered a hilarious one liner. She loved Joey—he reminded her of a goofier version of Dean, and she laughed at the very thought.

Jeyne tipped the beer bottle to get the last few drops and a couple drops of condensation splashed onto her hand. When she went to wipe it off, she noticed the crimson colour they had. She stared at it for a moment, her brow knitted with confusion, when additional droplets of red fell, splattering across the back of her hand. Slowly, she turned her gaze towards the ceiling to find her friend pinned there. Her eyes widened with shock as she took in the sight: her blonde hair was fanned around her head, and a gash across her abdomen was weeping; the blood pooled in the silken fabric of her nightgown.

A blood curdling scream tore from Jeyne’s throat as she struggled to her feet. “JESS!” she screamed

Jeyne fell to the floor and quickly scrambled to her feet, trying to think of ways to remove her from the ceiling. Nothing seemed to keep her tethered to the plaster. A moment later, Sam, who had heard Jeyne’s scream, burst into the room. His eyes flickered to the ceiling. His face contorted with fear as a spark seemed to ignite her flesh and her body burst into flame. Jeyne screamed again, falling to the ground. “Jess! _No!_ ” Sam screamed as the room around them caught fire.

Dean why by his side in the blink of an eye, having followed his brother when they heard the scream. When he saw the terror in Sam’s eyes, he knew he wanted to save Jess. But he knew what was going to happen next: Jess would be roasting on the ceiling in seconds. And sure enough, his prediction had been right. Never in his life had he expected to see a scene like this again. But there she was, to the horror of everyone in the room, on the ceiling as the building burned around her.

“Sam!” Dean hollered. “Sam, get out of here!” Dean grabbed his brother and dragged him from the room as he called Jess’s name. Jeyne gets to her feet and stumbles after them.

“Dean!” she called out. No one came back. No one heard her.

For a long moment, Jeyne thought she had been left to die. She tried to see through the smoke and the flames, but her eyes stung every time she opened them. It was impossible to see, and over the ringing in her ears, over the raging inferno, it was impossible to hear. Despair washed over her like a blanket. She was close to sitting down and letting the destruction consume her when the shape of a man came crashing into the room.

“Dean!” she croaked, her voice hoarse from smoke inhalation. “Help me!”

He would recognize that voice anywhere. “Jeyne…” he mumbles. “JEYNE!”

Without even thinking about it, Dean sprinted back into the fire. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for this woman, after all she had given him… after the semblance of normalcy she had placed in his otherwise crazy life. There was _nothing_ he wouldn’t do. And today, he wouldn’t let her die at the hands of the monster that killed his mother.

He held his arm in front of him, trying to shade his eyes from the light and protect them from the growing volume of ash spewing into the air. There she was, kneeling in the living room. Time slowed down as each step he took. It felt his legs were dragging through dunes of sand. However, in what was really but a few moments, she was in his arms and he was making a mad dash for the exit. He would save her tonight, and he would save her every day of her life for saving what sanity he had left in his.

Jeyne felt her feet leave the ground and her head lolled backwards, laying on Dean’s shoulder. Moments later, fresh air rushed into her lungs. She was grateful for the rush of crisp air, which replaced the impossible heat that she had felt burning her lungs.

The Hunter holds her closely to his chest, internally relieved he had heard her pleas for help. A moment later and she would have been consumed by the flames as well. Dean sits her on the hood of the Impala and takes her face into his hands; all the while Sam is staring helpless at the burning apartment. Jess was gone.

“Jeyne. Jeyne, you okay?” Dean asks firmly, attempted to keep the tremor from his hands and voice. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m okay, Dean,” she said, sucking in air. “Dean… Dean, what was that?” she said as she began to cry. “What happened? Why… why was Jess on the _ceiling_? Why was she bleeding? There was so much blood. Why… Why did she burst into flame?!” she sobbed angry tears. “WHY?! WHY IS MY FRIEND DEAD?!”

“J, you need to calm down. You need to tell me if you’re hurt,” Dean attempted to soothe her.

“Calm down… _Calm down?!_ ” she screamed. “My best friend just _died_ and you’re asking me to… to calm down?” she said the last part breathlessly. A silent sob left her mouth and she bent forward, wrapping her arms around her torso. Maybe it would be able to close the hole ripping open her chest. Maybe it would keep the pain away and let her forget the gravity of the situation. Maybe… just maybe.

Strong arms enveloped her and her cries were muffled by Dean’s leather jacket.

 _Sam,_ Dean said to himself. _Sam, and I will have time to talk about this later. He’ll want a moment to be alone._ He assured himself; justified comforting his friend over his brother. Dean had known Jess, too. He met her through Jeyne while in high school. She had been nice enough. Part of him went out to Jess, hoping her spirit was at rest.

This creature, whatever it was, had to be destroyed. It would not hurt his family again.

When Jeyne’s sobs subsided, Dean again took her face into his hands. He could feel his heart break as he looked at her red, puffy eyes. “Let’s get you home, J,” he said calmly.

“Okay,” she mumbled, nodding her head.

Dean helped her into the back of the Impala. “Sammy, let’s go.”

Sam stood in front of the building, which the firefighters were now taking care of, and almost missed what his brother had said. After a moment longer, Sam strode to the classic car and slammed the door shut as he sat down. Dean’s eyes were filled with worry as he paused to look at his brother. A moment later, the Impala rumbled to life and Jeyne was giving directions to her apartment.

The boys were sitting on her couch in silence as she approached them. A tray of hot beverages rattled in her shaky hands and Dean got to his feet to help her, setting the tray on the round marble coffee table. They each took a cup, pouring some _Bailey’s_ into the mix as Jeyne sipped her tea. She was seated beside Dean, knees to her chest and a blanket around her shoulders. The trio was silent for some time, the sound of sipping and the ticking of the clock filled the silence.

Dean could feel Jeyne’s grey eyes on him. He knew the question on her lips but, for the first time, he was truly and utterly afraid of admitting what he was and what he and Sammy did for a living. Jeyne was one of the only normal things in his otherwise complicated life. She was the only person who accepted him for who he was and allowed him to be normal. However, he knew he owed her an explanation. He knew that she had always known something was up, and Dean always silently thanked her for never asking. He was truly grateful for that, and for her.

“What…. What happened back there?” she broke the silence with her quiet question.

Sam’s eyes met Dean’s for a moment and he nodded. Dean downed his coffee and set the empty mug on the tray. “Look, Jeyne, this is, uh… Well, it’s gonna sound bat-shit crazy no matter what way I put it. So, here goes nothin’. Sam and I, as well as dear old dad, are Hunters.”

“I know that,” she replied.

He took a deep breath. “Hunters of the supernatural. You know… Ghosts, vampires, werewolves, the whole shebang. They’re all real.” He stole a glance at Jeyne and noticed she looked calm. That was a bad thing, he thought. “We’ve been doing this since… since my mom died. She was killed by the same thing that killed Jess. My dad has spent his whole life hunting it; dragging us across the entire country on his missions. It hasn’t been easy, and it hasn’t been without losses… but we save people, hunt things. That’s the family business. Like I said, it sounds insane, and I wouldn’t blame you if all you wanted to see was taillights on the horizon—it’s not something everyone can handle. But it’s the god to honest truth. Scout’s honour.”

In some sort of sense, telling Jeyne about who he really was lifted a huge weight from his shoulders. It also scared the piss out of him—he was telling the truth to the one person he never wanted to know about his life…  about his true self and he didn’t want to lose her. Dean had always been himself around her. But like any other person, he kept truths from her. He was allowed to have his secrets, though he had never once told her a lie. There was still some dread, however, as her silence filled the room. It was like the clock had stopped ticking and time stood still; his future revolving around what she would say next.

Jeyne knew for years that there had been something else going on in the lives of the Winchester boys, but never could she have dreamt it was this. She never pried. If they didn’t want to tell her about what it was, she wasn’t going to ask. It hadn’t been any of her business until now.

Truth be told, it did sound crazy. It made sense,  after what she had witnessed. It was a lot of information to process and she remained still as her brain comprehended the situation: Jeyne’s best friend as a supernatural hunter.

She could feel their eyes on her, waiting for her reaction. Her steel grey eyes turned to look at them, and slowly, she nodded. “Okay,” the word was softly spoken. She swallowed heavily. “You’re, uh, you’re right—it _is_ bat shit crazy.” She saw the expression on their faces drop. “But it’s the only explanation that makes sense.”

Sam relaxed and Dean sighed, his shoulders slumping with relief. “Not gonna lie, I thought you were gonna freak.”

“I thought I was, too,” she said breathlessly. “I knew there was always something you boys were keeping from me. Honestly, I’m glad that I know now… even if it is out of the left field.”

Dean pulled her in for a hug and Jeyne reached out for Sam to join. He needed comfort, too. “I’m glad that I’ve got you boys. My boys.”

“Glad we got someone like you, J,” Sam said, accepting the comfort the young woman had offered him.

Hours later, in the wee hours of the morning, Dean woke up with Jeyne fast asleep on his shoulder. Sam had gone to bed hours before, wanting to have some time alone. J had offered him her guest room, which he had taken gladly. The two remained on the couch, watching some old movies—just as they had years ago in high school—and fell asleep. Dean had his arms around her, he noticed, and a small smile was drawn on her face. A smile of his own slowly found its way onto his face. He remained there for a few moments longer before slipping himself from her side.

Sam appeared in the hallway, awake and ready to go. With a nod, they exited the apartment and drove into the sunrise.

Jeyne woke alone on the couch. Her heart sank as she took in the empty room. Her eyes found the note on the coffee table.

_See you around._

_—_ D.W.


	4. The Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t like it!” she yelled. “Dark magic comes at a great cost—it always wants something in return, something that you aren’t going to like. IF the Mark is making Dean as violent as you say, who knows what it possesses to make him act that way."

Chapter 4: The Choice

The second hand on the clock seemed to tick slower as time went on. The silence snaked into the room and staled the air; it was all consuming and deafening all at once. It seemed as though time trudged on at the pace of spilling molasses—inconceivably and relentlessly slow.

Long slender fingers frantically tapped at the surface of the wooden kitchen table in impatience. Waiting was, without doubt, the most ruthless kind of pain imaginable. It slowly creeps under your skin and poisons the mind with an infinite number of questions; which was exactly what it was doing to Jeyne.

For the last sixteen hours sleep had evaded her, as it was wont to do. Answerless questions flooded her mind; multiple scenarios of her inevitable reunion with Sam and Castiel ran through her mind and every one ended catastrophically. The fear of their possible feelings of hate towards her departure consumed her every waking moment. Most tasks that would have normally calmed her—running, drawing, reading, tea, a shot of good old Jack Daniel’s, or even firing off a couple rounds at the gun range—did little, if nothing, to assuage the turmoil raging inside her head. Nothing she did could possibly prepare her for what was to come, not even the acceptance of what she had done.

Their faces from that day were permanently etched into her mind.

Dean’s eyes had begged her not to leave: This life may not be easy, may not be the one she wanted, but he would do anything to make it as comfortable as possible for her. Then there was Sam, with his sleepy puppy dog eyes; he looked at her with a mixture of understanding and of hurt. How could the youngest brother have comprehended anything that she was doing **?** How could he look at her with such acceptance when she was causing him, Dean, Bobby, and countless others so much pain?

How could she face two of the most important people in her life knowing what she had done? **  
** A heavy sigh escaped her lips before she placed her head into her hands **.** Long tendrils of auburn hair tangled themselves in her long digits and fell in front of her face as if to shield her from what was going to happen. Soon, the young woman would come face to face with old friends. Not knowing the outcome of the situation was beginning to consume her as well as the dread, the unanswered questions and the urge to run.

However, she remained strong in her resolve to face the consequences that her actions would bring. Though it could break her, she would accept any negative outcome. It was she who had left, she who broke the bonds of love, family, friendship and trust. It was she who would have a heavy burden to carry, on top of those already present, if they did indeed despise her very existence.  Those were the consequences and she would carry the burden of them if it came to such an outcome.

The sound of an approaching engine drew her from her thoughts. She swallowed past the lump in her throat as she drew the curtains back to check out of the rather dingy window. The vehicle’s occupants were revealed to her and it was with a heavy heart that she realized it was them and the time had come. Jeyne’s heart hammered in her chest, though she could have sworn it had stopped altogether. The fear that raced through her very veins seemed to boil to a screaming point and threatened to consume her entirely. After a moment, she let out the shaky breath she had been holding and swallowed her pride and fear.

She wrapped her slender arms securely around her middle before exiting the house.

Sam and Castiel disembarked from their truck as Jeyne closed the door to her home. It was as if they were looking at the same person who had left them years ago, the ex-huntress hadn’t aged a day.

For several long minutes, the three of them stood in silence as they took in one another. The urge to embrace the men who stood in front of her was overwhelming, nearly to the point where she was ready to cast aside her worry and apprehension to launch herself at them.

However, not knowing under which circumstance they stood, she held fast.

No longer being able to stand the distance between himself and his friend—his sister-of-all-intents-and-purposes—Sam finally took a step towards Jeyne, and then another followed by yet another. With each step closer the years seemed to melt away. It wasn’t until Sam took Jeyne into his arms that he felt at ease—as if the years had only been weeks, days or perhaps even minutes.

Jeyne was taken off guard as Sam enveloped his arms around her tightly. After believing for so long that he had hated her, it was an utter relief to be engulfed by the familiarity he brought with him. After a few moments’ hesitation, Jeyne slowly wrapped her arms around Sam and buried her face into the crook of his neck. Tears she didn’t even realize she had been holding back spilled from her eyes. Relief rushed over her **,** wrapping around her like a warm blanket as she basked in his presence. A craving to hug him over four years had finally been fulfilled and most of her worries melted away with it.

“I thought you hated me,” she sobbed into his shirt. She clung to him desperately, never wanting to let go.

Sam ran a hand along the back of her head in a soothing gesture. “I thought _you_ hated _me_ ,” he replied honestly. “You never answered my texts... I mean, you did say you never wanted anything to do with the life again. I get it—I left once, too, and I know what you’re going through. For the record, there was never a time where I ever hated you. Hope you know what.”

At this admission, Jeyne began to sob harder. The tears allowed the released of self-loathing, pent up over the long years apart. Jeyne clung to Sam, worried that she would wake up from the dream she was surely having; while Sam, knowing that this display of emotion was very unlike her, knew the torture she had subjected herself to had been great. He held her tighter.

Castiel turned away from the duo, allowing them to have their privacy. The celestial being longed to comfort his companion, but he would wait his turn. Jeyne was unaware of his new self. Though the human had been someone who could easily adjust to new situations, he still wanted to be careful. Much time had passed since their last encounter and it was now apparent as to why. Her home had been warded against his kind… that is if he could truly still call himself an angel.  He was lost somewhere between an angel and a human.

Many minutes passed before Jeyne’s sobs finally subsided. Castiel deemed it safe to gaze upon them and turned himself to do so. The human smiled shakily at him as she removed herself from Sam. He approached her and, in turn, took her into his arms tightly.

Jeyne was taken by surprise by Castiel’s hug.Not necessarily because of the gesture itself, but how he went about it. The embrace wasn’t awkward as it once had been all those years ago; instead it was warm, inviting, and soothing. He felt sure of himself, she could sense, and it aided in grounding her; calming her frayed nerves. Although Cas didn’t shine as he once did, she discovered she rather liked it that way. Extraordinarily normal; or perhaps something akin to it.

As the realization of how much she had missed him dawned on her, Jeyne rested her forehead on his shoulder and tightened her grip.

“This is different,” she mused, her voice muffled by the fabric of his trench coat.

Cas stiffened a little. “Am I doing this wrong?”

A chuckle bubbled softly from her lips and she gently shook her head. “No. It’s nice. Much less awkward…. I could get used to this.”

“As could I,” he chuckled and released his grip. “I’m glad I’ve made improvements. I wasn’t sure it would be acceptable.”

“They’re stellar,” she affirmed with a smile.

Something about Jeyne glowed brightly in that moment; as if the light of the setting sun gave her an ethereal glow. Her aura pulsed brightly, he noted as well. Her smile was infectious, as he found his lips slowly turning upwards, imitating hers to the best of his ability. Not to mention, if it were even possible, Castiel realized she looked younger. Not much, if anything at all, had changed. It puzzled him.

Jeyne calmed the excitement that had began to surge through her. Instead, she gestured towards the house. “Lets get you guys settled in.”

The men followed her in to her open and bright home. The small foyer opened into the living area on the left, a stairwell to the bedrooms directly ahead of them, and a hallway leading to the kitchen to the right. Along the hall were pictures of people Castiel recognized and **a few he** didn’t. One that stood out in particular had two teenagers in it. They smiled brightly. The young woman, who he assumed was Jeyne—as they wore their hair in a familiar braid—was directing her gaze at a young Dean. He was looking directly at the camera. It was a true smile; one he hadn’t seen on the Winchester’s face in what felt like millennia.

After a moment spent smiling at the photograph, he noted the locked, oak door to his left. Jeyne explained she stores her weapons there. “Old habits die hard,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders. No truer words could have been spoken.

The kitchen was open and welcome. The area had a modern rustic feeling to it. Bay windows, which looked out on to the city below, let in a generous amount of light despite the slight amount of dirt built up on the panes of glass; it made one feel as if no evil could touch this place. Peaceful silence hung in the air as hues of red and orange warmed not only their skin but their souls.

Jeyne directed them to the living room after a few moments spent basking in the warmth of the sun. It was a long room, split in two by an arch close to the center of the open space. Each side of the room had a large bay window. The side closest to the kitchen had bookshelves filled with tomes and stories; the occasional picture or knick-knack to fill in the gaps. Beside the shelves was a large arm chair, nearly big enough for two people to easily snuggle down in. A lamp stood behind the chair and a side table sat to the chair’s left. Beyond the archway was a TV, a couple of gaming consoles, a few movies and TV shows along with a couch and love seat.

All in all, the entire house, even the bedrooms, were open and inviting, much like the woman who lived in it.

“A sanctuary for all weary souls,” Jeyne had described her small paradise. Castiel and Sam could only nod their agreement.

After the men had had their time to settle in, change their clothes and freshen up, they met Jeyne on the patio. She donned one of Dean’s old plaid shirts, a white v-neck, ripped jeans and a pair of old boots that were a bit worn and frayed around the edges but comfortable nonetheless. Her auburn hair, much like the color of a rich maple syrup, hung in its usual braid that traveled to the middle of her back. Three beers sat on the table though the one that sat in her hand was only just over half-full. 

If Sam had ever lived a normal life, he thought this was what it would have been like. He could almost feel a sense of normalcy—as if he was simply visiting with some old friends for a beer and an evening spent playing catch-up. He could almost fool himself into believing it to be true… however, the uncertainty of Dean’s future wouldn’t allow him any reprieve.

Jeyne offered the boys a warm smile as they each took a seat at the table. The last of the orange and red fractals were giving way for a bespeckled black sky. Lanterns slowly began to light up one by one around them resembling guardians in the black of night.

“This would have been a perfect night for a barbeque,” Jeyne said quietly. “Would have been a heck of a party… ‘Specially with you guys around…”

“Sorry we couldn’t be meeting under better circumstances,” Sam said. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he stared at the beer bottle between his hands and took a large gulp.

Castiel nodded.

“Yeah,” Jeyne replied, nodding her head slowly. “I’m sorry, too. So, what’s going on?”

A heavy sigh escaped Sam’s lips. “I guess a good place to start would be Abaddon.”

“Abaddon?”

“Yeah. She’s not your run of the mill demon. Abaddon is a Knight of Hell. A year and a half ago, Dean and I set off to kill Abaddon, with some help from Crowley.” Jeyne gave him a look of disapproval. “A story I’ll save for another time. So, while Cas and I were at the Bunker—a place filled with all kinds of information on just about every creature on earth—Dean and Crowley paid a visit to Cain… Yeah, as in the son of Adam and Eve.”

Jeyne dropped her jaw, shock apparent on her face. “It really shouldn’t surprise me. I mean, we’ve met Gods, angels, demons, the whole shebang! But I never thought it was possible that he was still alive.”

“I had the same reaction,” Sam replied with a smirk. “Anyway, so Dean and Crowley meet up with Cain and he had quite the story to tell. Turns out, Cain wanted to save his brother. Lucifer was going to trick Abel into being his pet. To save his soul, he offered his own to protect Abel and asked that it had a place in heaven. However, if Cain wanted his brother’s soul to go to heaven, he had to be the one to send him. So he created the First Blade and killed Abel.

“When Dean asked to use it, Cain admitted he had disposed of it. It was at the bottom of the Mariana’s Trench…. Also, that to wield the blade, one needs the Mark of Cain. It’s a scar that looks like a backwards F. He warned Dean that it came with a great burden, but with the balance of human and demon interaction going out of whack, Dean didn’t think twice… You know Dean almost as well as I do, always wanting to prove himself, sacrificing himself, to show that he’s worthy; so that no one else gets hurt…

“Long story short, we got the First Blade, Dean killed Abaddon and our next problem was dealing with an archangel called Metatron. They fought it out and Dean was killed by Metatron.” Jeyne sucked in a deep breath, a sharp pain stabbing at her chest. “He was brought back by the Mark as a demon. Dean went missing for a while, but we found him and cured his demonism. He struggled with himself for a year while he tried to keep himself in check. He killed Cain, who had gone on a rampage; we met a witch called Rowena, Crowley’s mother, and we lost a really close friend…” Once again, Sam’s Adam’s apple began to bob up and down as he took a deep breath to steady himself in his explanation. Jeyne took his hand and intertwined her fingers with his.

“Charlie. You would have loved her. Anyway, she decoded the Book of the Damned—a spellbook filled with incredibly dark magic—before she died. It contains a spell that can remove the Mark. Dean went on a rampage to exterminate the crime family that killed her… and he almost killed Cas. He left a couple days ago and we’ve been trying to find him ever since.”

“Okay,” Jeyne said slowly. “So you need me to help finding Dean before he becomes a bigger danger to himself, and to others. But if you managed to find him as a demon, why do you need me?”

Sam swallowed hard and shared a glance with Castiel. It didn’t go unnoticed. Jeyne’s expression dropped as she realized what they were trying to tell her. “Are you _nuts_?! She got to her feet abruptly and clenched her head between her hands. “You’re going to use that _book_ to remove the Mark, aren’t you?”

“We wouldn’t be using it if we had any other choice!” Sam said desperately. “Cas and I have looked everywhere for a cure and this is the _only_ option.”

“I don’t like it!” she yelled. “Dark magic comes at a great cost—it always wants something in return, something that you aren’t going to like. If the Mark is making Dean as violent as you say, who knows what it possesses to make him act that way. Damn you freaking Winchesters! All you ever think about is saving each other—about self-preservation. You make every decision when it comes to saving yourselves so blindly! Have you ever stopped to consider the repercussions it may have on the rest of the world; on yourselves; on the people who care about? Have you even stopped to consider if Dean even _wants_ to be saved? He wouldn’t want an evil unleashed upon the world!”

“Jeyne,” Cas got to his feet and placed a hand on her shoulder. She immediately jerked away. “Please—”

“No! Don’t you touch me!”

“Huntress,” Sam pleaded, hoping her pet name would calm her down, “it’s the only way!—” 

“My answer is 'No!'.  ARE YOU DEAF, SAMUEL?!” She hollered in his face. “I WOULD SEE YOU BURN IN HELL BEFORE YOU EVER GOT ANY HELP FROM ME! The world is more important than Dean Winchester,” she choked out the last part, tears stinging her eyes as though she knew it to be true but couldn't quite bring herself to believe it.

Castiel could feel the pain the words brought her. He knew she deeply cared for the Winchesters, Dean in particular. He knew there was a bond between the two—deeply rooted and blossoming over many years of friendship and turmoil.

There were tears in Sam’s eyes. It was like she was leaving them all over again. Except now he knew he would never see her again. “Jeyne—”

Jeyne’s slender fingers grasped an empty beer bottle and it whistled through the air as she hurled it at Sam. “Get off my property!” She screamed, angry tears spilling from her eyes. “Get off my property and don’t you _ever_ come back.”  

Sam hesitated but didn’t wait to be asked twice. Castiel dragged Sam to the truck and soon they were nothing but a pair of tail lights hurtling down the road. Jeyne collapse on the gravel driveway and sobbed. She had lost them all over again. She wished Dean was there. He would know what to do.


	5. Thunderstruck

Chapter 5: Thunderstruck

_***Then***_

     Jeyne could recall the rush of terror running up her spine as she had fallen forward. There was a sickening crunch of metal on metal. Glass shattered and scattered on the ground around her. Time seemed to slow as she looked about; her ears ringing. Shock tingled every nerve from her head to her toes. As she turned to see what had happened, she saw her car completely wrapped around the front end of a transport truck.

     The young woman had been mere feet away from her death.

     Jeyne Ramsay counted her lucky stars as she climbed into Bobby’s truck. If she had been at the pump a few seconds longer, she would have been no better off than her poor car. After her fit of fury, in which she screamed and hollered at the drunk truck driver, she finally felt the shock settling in. She could have died. She almost left this world without seeing Dean again. And that scared her more than the prospect of death, itself.

     A few days earlier, Jeyne received a call from Bobby—a father figure of sorts to Sam and Dean. It was the first time she had spoken to him outside of their few correspondences by letter. When Dean had gone, he left her with details about how to contact him. Little did Jeyne know, this was something that Dean (or any hunter, for that matter) seldom did. But she had never been part of his job. She was his friend—one of the few normal things in his crazy life, besides—and he hadn’t seen the harm in keeping contact with her. In a lifestyle filled with danger, he had allowed himself a solitary modicum of normalcy.

     One of her many correspondences with Singer's Salvage Yard had been directed to Bobby, himself. She asked the man to call the number enclosed in her letter should Dean be at this home for his birthday. Jeyne had always wanted an excuse to surprise him. And that was what Bobby’s gruff voice told her the first time they spoke over the phone.

     “House of the Lord. Jesus speaking. How may I help you?” she had answered the phone. Jeyne wrapped the curly wire around her finger as she brought the receiver to her ear.

     There was a sigh on the other side of the line. “Yeah, right… Okay, Jesus,” a grated voice said. “I would like to speak with one, uh… Jeyne Ramsay.”

     “Oh, this is she,” she said sheepishly. “May I ask whose calling?”

     “Bobby Singer—Singer’s Salvage Yard. You asked me to call if Dean was going to spend his birthday here. Well, the boys and their dad should be arriving in a couple of weeks, around the 25th. You still itchin’ to come down?”

     “Of course,” Jeyne replied with enthusiasm. “I wouldn’t miss out on a chance to surprise Dean.”

     “Good,” he huffed. “The boy’s been moping ever since you decided to forgo sendin’ your Christmas gift this year. Hasn’t said much of anything but I know he’s thinking you abandoned him, or somethin’. Can’t stand another second of it.”

     Jeyne bit her lip and twirled the cord around her finger. “Maybe it wasn’t a good idea.”

     “Yah think?” Bobby rolled his eyes. “Boy’s lost enough without thinking he’s lost someone else he cares about.” Jeyne was silent on the other end of the line. She was speechless. If she had known it would cause her friend this much pain, she wouldn’t have done it. “… I apologize. I know you’re just trying to surprise the kid… but Dean’s been dealt a bad hand after bad hand and when it comes to this kind of stuff, he doesn’t handle it well. I know you mean good but I don’t want to see the boy get hurt again. He can’t afford to lose someone else.”

     “Bobby, I promise you—and Dean—that he won’t be losing me.”

     “Good… Anyway, when should I expect you?” he sighed.

     “If it’s okay with you, I would like to spend a few weeks with you before Dean shows up. I told my profs that I would be away for the month and they’ve already given me a mock-up of the assignments. Nothing time-consuming, and nothing that I don’t already know,” she replied. “Even got some funds saved up if you would like me to pay board—”

     “No, I won’t have none of that,” he interrupted. “As long as you don’t snoop around and clean up after yourself, it’s good enough for me. Mi casa es su casa.”

     A grin broke out onto her face. “Thanks Bobby. I’ll see you in a few days.”

     “Yeah. Just give me a call when you’re close.”

     “Sure thing.”

     The older man watched Jeyne out of the corner of his eye the entire hour-long drive to his home in Sioux Falls. Tears were brimming her eyes, but not a single one fell. The older man wasn't sure if she was stubborn or resilient. On most occasions, the line between the two were blurred. The older man watched her throat bob up and down as she swallowed over and over again; trying to keep herself from crying, most likely. It was apparent to him that she wasn't one to show weakness around people. And though they  _technically_  weren't strangers, they still didn't know each other well enough that she felt comfortable showing that level of emotion. And he couldn't blame her. He barely showed that side of himself to anyone. The Winchesters, except for perhaps Sam and Dean, were not exempt.

     The silence was broken only by the sound of Jeyne's car rattling on the back of the tow truck. 

     The young woman was silent for most of their trip. But that didn’t mean that Bobby’s mind wasn’t reeling with thoughts, nor hers. As he drove, he wondered what was so special about this girl. Yeah, she was smart—that much was obvious—but there didn’t seem to be much else there. Jeyne held off on giving her presents this year, needlessly causing Dean grief. The boy had already gone through enough and he didn’t need to worry about losing someone else. And for that reason alone, Bobby couldn’t begin to fathom why Dean took a shinning to this woman. Bobby wasn’t one to judge, but this person, this civilian, had no idea what she was doing. She had no idea the effect she held over Dean. Perhaps if she was aware, it would cause less problems.

     Jeyne wasn’t a part of the life: Many Hunters didn’t keep contact with the people outside who shared what they did… at least, they made a habit not to keep those people close. So why risk everything with this girl? What about her made her so special to Dean? She was normal; clean. Boring. Thoughtless, as it would seem, though Bobby couldn’t really blame her. This girl had absolutely no clue what was going on in Dean’s life. Why couldn’t his best friend be a Hunter? At least  _then_  she would understand what crazy thoughts were brewing in the kid’s mind.

     The more Bobby thought about it, the more he realized that was maybe the whole point. Dean clearly wanted someone boring, someone clean, someone to keep him grounded… someone  _normal_  to make him feel like  _he was_  normal; make him feel like his entire existence was normal, even. And if this is what she did for the boy, he would like her for Dean, not for himself. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about the girl, but for Dean he would. It was apparent to him that, despite his misgivings, she was good for the young man. 

     Bobby didn’t exactly approve… that much was apparent. He would need to spend more time with the girl before being able to form a true opinion of her. The older man rubbed at the scruff on his chin as he contemplated her; his eyes ever watchful of the road.

     After many more moments spent in silence, Jeyne looked at her car and sighed. She then directed her gaze at Bobby. Jeyne stared at him for a moment before speaking. "Bobby?"

     "Yeah?" he answered, and hoped he didn't sound surprised. 

     “Do you have any cars at the yard that I could fix up?” she asked quietly, twiddling her thumbs. “My insurance won’t cover the cost of a new car… and I don’t exactly have money to buy a new one. Doesn’t have to be anything fancy.”

     The older man once again rubbed at the scruff on his chin as he contemplated her question. Sure, there was a fair share of cars on the lot, but not many that one could easily fix. There was one vehicle that he recalled, however, that could work. "Yeah... there are a couple bangers at the yard that are worth fixin'. You particular to what kind of car you get?"

     "I'll take just about anything," she replied honestly. “I’m not picky.”

     “Okay,” he said with a nod. “Someone dropped off some old pick-up a couple weeks back. I started working on her just to pass the time. If you can finish it, she’s as good as yours.”

     Jeyne nodded her head and looked out the windshield. Rain began to fall and pitter patter on the glass. "That's fair... What can I do about parts and tools?"

     "Dean's got his own garage of sorts. I'm sure the boy wouldn't mind you usin’ it. He's fixed that Impala more times than I can count. I'm sure he's got what you need there," Bobby replied. “Whatever parts you need I am sure you can find around the lot. What you can’t find you’ll have to buy. Chances of that happening are slim, though. There’s always something to be reused on the lot if yer willing to look hard enough.”

     “Sounds like a plan,” Jeyne bit back a small smile and looked out her window instead. “Thanks, Bobby,” she said after a few moments of silence. “Means a lot that you’re doing this for me.”

     “Don’t mention it,” he replied. Jeyne looked at him. He looked like he was struggling to say something. After a few moments, he bit his cheek; deciding in that moment that he wasn’t going to say anything.

     The next three weeks were spent out in the cold of the January. Once the duo had arrived at Bobby’s home in Sioux Falls, the clouds had cleared and the sun was beginning to set. Bobby and Jeyne spent the first hours in each other’s company in silence. They used that time attempting to salvage what they could of Jeyne’s car for spare parts, as well as getting her belongings from the trunk.

     Luckily the trunk of her old car was left decently intact. She was able to get Dean’s gift and her clothes, as well as her laptop, from the compartment. Bobby then showed her to her room—which was Dean’s when the boys and John were stopping for a visit—and she was able to settle in.

     That night, she spent her time staring into the black of the night unable to sleep. It refused to come to her. Though the shock of the situation had since ebbed, it was still glued to her mind. Not only that but she had to worry about fixing up a car that could, in the very least, get her back to Stanford in the weeks to come. On top of which, she had to get her assignments done and mailed.

     The next morning, she rose from bed with the sun, having had no sleep. She found Bobby passed out on the couch in the living room, a beer bottle in his hand, and covered him with the quilt which she found on the armrest. Bacon was sizzling in the pan and eggs were scrambled. They were placed on a plate and left in the oven on low to keep it warm. There was a note left on the stovetop for Bobby.

     She inspected the garage with a cup of coffee in her hand. There was a hodge podge of tools hung on the wall and parts scattered about the room. Bobby had been using Dean’s garage to fix the truck, it would seem.

     The room was abuzz with familiarity. Everything about this room said Dean. The few beer bottles he surely got from Bobby, the musk and faint smell of cologne; a couple antique guns were hung on the wall… and there was a shelf where Jeyne noticed he kept all of his keepsakes—many of them gifts and mementos from the time Dean had spent with her. His collection of Zeppelin albums, a stupid pin they once won at a fair, and an old tape recorder were among them.

     The one thing that stood out to her was the first picture that they had taken of each other. Sam had been the one to take it. Jeyne was smiling brightly at Dean, who was looking at the camera. There was a bigger smile on his face; he had been caught mid-laugh. Jeyne remembered the day clearly. Though she couldn’t remember what she had said, she had managed to get Dean to laugh. Sam just happened to snap the picture at the most opportune moment. She smiled fondly at the memory as she replaced the framed picture on the shelf.

     Soon, the coffee was gone, the sun was above the horizon and it was time to work.

     Jeyne spent the day working on the old car. Most of the body had been banged out, leaving the passenger door untouched. She spent a few hours hammering out the dents before spending the following days sanding down the tacky orange paint. If this was going to be her car, it had to be bad-ass; black as night, maybe even with a cool nickname. Dean always secretly called the Impala  _Baby_ , so this truck deserved a nickname of its own. After a few minutes considering the best name, she decided on Stranger—the god of Death in  _A Game of Thrones_. Her favourite character, Sandor “The Hound” Clegane, named his black destrier after the god. He had a mean temper, and something told her that this old pick-up would, too. And so it was. She would get a license plate with the name to truly make the truck her own.

     Every day that Jeyne spent out of the house and in the cold, when he wasn’t busy helping with a case, Bobby watched her. He watched Jeyne work diligently on the truck, giving it all the care that it deserved. And as he continued to watch her, Bobby slowly began to realize how much passion she had for cars. The same passion he often saw reflected in Dean. There wasn’t much the boy could fix in this world. The Impala, as silly as it sounded, gave him purpose; gave him something that he could always rely on to fix from the ground up when everything else was out of his control.

     And perhaps the girl gave him this passion. It certainly wasn’t his absentee father. (He cursed John Winchester for raising his boys as killers; dragging them along on his crusade to find the thing that killed his wife instead of concentrating on the life that his boys deserved). It was likely that Dean found his passion because of Bobby, either. The way the girl concentrated on her work resembled the way that Dean often did.

     Slowly, as the days turned into weeks, the older man put all the pieces together. And when the puzzle was finally completed, he quietly thanked the girl for the blessings she brought to his boy’s life. Every day, he was kinder to the girl. He offered her help when he saw that she was struggling—even if the idjit was stubborn enough not to ask for help—and the slowly rebuilt the truck together.

     Every morning, there was a cup of Joe on the counter and a hot plate of food being kept warm in the oven. He brought her tea and a half-assed sandwich in the afternoon and ate often in silence. But every day, they quietly built up a relationship. They built trust and friendship and soon Bobby considered the young lady one of his own; the daughter that he had never had.

 

* * *

 

     The Impala rumbled up the gravel driveway. John was asleep beside him, as well as Sam who had crashed hours ago in the back seat. When Bobby’s ramshackle house came into the view, the excitement that Dean usually felt didn’t make itself known. Heavy bags under his green orbs and the lack of luster in his eyes showed how exhausted he was.

     What was supposed to be a routine ghost turned out to be a demon. It was one of his first encounters with their kind and it got the best of him, both mentally and physically. The three of them had been tossed around the room like rag dolls. Luckily, he was spared any visible scratches. However, he was certain his ribs were bruised.

     The lack of enthusiasm could also be attributed to Jeyne. Every year since Dean left, they had sent each other gifts: One on Christmas and another on their respective birthdays. When none came in the mail or showed up under the tree at Bobby’s this year, he was sure Jeyne wanted nothing to do with him… or that something horrible had befallen her. No matter how much he wanted to alleviate his fears. But a month’s worth of hunting kept him from doing that.

      And if Dean was going to be honest with himself, if she wanted to let him know what was happening she would have told him. If it had been a month and there was still no word, he knew she wanted nothing to do with him. The thought alone scared him more than any demon or supernatural creature. Jeyne had given him a taste of a normal life, _was_ his normal life. And without her… he couldn’t allow himself to consider the possible repercussions of her absence. Instead, he tucked his best friend to the back of his mind and was determined to keep her there until all the facts were put together.

     Bobby, who had heard the engine's distinct sound, was emerging from his home; his hands in the pockets of his tattered jeans. A smirk tugged at the edge of the lips and Dean, in spite of his sadness, smiled at the man. When he parked the Impala and cut the engine, he was the first one out of the car. He rushed to Bobby and hugged the man, who clapped his back. He winced but didn't mind the pain. Years of hunting had built up a resistance to pain.

     “You look like hell, birthday boy,” he commented once he got a good look at the young man. “What the hell happened? Was it a poltergeist?” the older man asked, though keeping his tone low. He knew that Jeyne could be in earshot and she knew nothing of their trade. Dean wanted to keep it that way and he respected the boy’s wishes.

     Dean shook his head. “Turned out to be a very clever demon,” Dean said. “But we sent the damn thing back to hell—”

      As Dean prepared to share his endeavours with the man he considered a father, a voice pierced the air. “ _Son_ of a _bitch!_ ”

      The voice sent a rush of shock and excitement up his spine. The girl-now-woman he had tucked into the back of his mind moments ago came to the forefront of his mind. His green eyes searched for the source of the voice, which was coming from the direction of the garages. “Bobby… She’s here?”

      “I’ve got no clue what yer talkin’ about, son,” Bobby said with a shrug of his shoulders. When John and Sam emerged from the Impala, groggy and stretching, Bobby turned his back to them and winked at Dean.

     A few more choice curse words rang through the air and there was a loud clang as metal was slammed against the concrete. Dean slowly moved towards the sounds. Though he knew he should be rushing towards the sound, he found his feet wouldn’t carry him. He felt like he was moving through molasses. _Jeyne… she’s here,_ was all he could think about as his heartbeat hammered in his ears.

      Jeyne rounded Bobby's van with a rag in her hands, which she used to wipe the grease from her hands. Her auburn hair was in a messy ponytail, the sweat on her brow causing some of the lose strands of her to cling to her skin, and she wore Dean's coveralls, which were tucked into her tattered work boots. It had gotten hot in the cramped space and the sleeves were tied around her waist. She donned one of her grey hoodies. Grease stained her cheeks and forehead.

     She had grown into her skin. Though it had only been two years since they last saw each other, Jeyne had matured. Her hips and chest were more defined and her cheeks were angular rather than soft and round like they once were. But hardly anything else had changed: She was still his girl.

     "Screw this truck, Bobby!" came Jeyne's voice from the garage from which she had been so diligently working from the past month. "I can't get the damn drum brake to attach to the axle on my own! Could you please help me? And before you say it, because I know you'll say it, yes I was a stubborn jackass who thought she knew everything. And yes I actually  _am_  asking for help. So please spare me your oh so _charming_ sass."

     Dean's eyes widened as he saw her walk towards him, and his heart raced. When Jeyne finally looked up from her hands, which she was trying to remove grease from, her steel grey eyes met his green and she froze. "Jeyne..." he whispered.

      He had grown, she realized, and had come unto his own. His features were defined and no longer round and boyish. Dean’s shoulders were broad and he was more muscular that she recalled, though he had always been fit. He stood before her, years later, a man grown and she had missed it. She missed all of it. But he was still Dean, he was still her best friend.

     A smile erupted onto her flushed, freckled cheeks. “Dean!” Before she knew what was happening, her legs were carrying her full tilt towards the young man. Whatever shock had taken over him was gone in that instant and he took three long strides meeting Jeyne halfway. She launched herself into his arms and buried her face into the crook of his neck. Jeyne didn’t notice the wince and Dean didn’t care. She was here. She was _really_ here.

      He lifted her from her feet, which was no longer hard to do, to which she held on to him tighter. The air escaping from her lips as she laughed tickled the skin on his neck. It was a wonderful feeling, having her here, when he had lost all hope. “Happy birthday, you old fart!” she said, her smile growing wider still.

     When he finally placed her on the ground, she held him out at arm’s length. “Shut up, J. I’m not that old,” he chuckled.

     “Well, would you be an old fart or older than dirt? You _are_ six whole months older than me which means you could be qualified to be as old as the universe,” Jeyne laughed when Dean tried to punch her, which she easily dodged. She ducked under his arm and kicked him in the butt, staggering forward but not falling.

      Dean turned to her and rolled his eyes, not wanting to scrap with her at that point in time. Instead, he hugged her a second time and held her tighter, still. While Sam and John said hello to Bobby, he whispered to her. “I didn’t think you… I thought you didn’t want to come back,” he struggled, the smile from his face and from his voice were now gone.

      She knew what he truly meant: That she no longer wanted him in her life. That she didn’t want to come back to _him_.

     Jeyne bit her lip and buried her face into his neck again. Her long arms wrapped around his torso and she hold him close. “I’m sorry I didn’t send anything. I wanted us to be able to open our presents together, just like we did when you lived in Ithaca… Bobby already tore me a new one. I promise it won’t happen again. Besides, I figured my presence would more than make up for it.”

     Dean chuckled and released Jeyne, instead wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “It sucked balls, but I’d say you’ve more than made up for it.” He directed her towards the Impala, knowing that John and Sam would want to talk to Bobby about the hunt. “Want to go for a drive?”

      “Sure… Just… is it okay if I grab one or two things? I don’t gotta change, I just want to get someone their presents.”

      Jeyne was running out of Bobby’s front door minutes later, garbed in what she wore earlier (just as promised) and she threw herself into the car. As Dean threw the Impala into reverse, he asked where they should go. Jeyne insisted on a place that Dean often wrote to her in his letters. And so they drove 30 minutes to Beaver Lake.

     They looked at each other like they were each other’s worlds. And in some way, they were. They had each other and even through the distance, it was all they had ever needed. The duo spoke easily together, as if the time and distance between them had never been there. Dean regaled her in the stories of their hunting and taxidermy business and Jeyne told him about her schooling. She was going to Stanford to become an engineer. Dean commented about how Sam was eyeing the place as a place to go for Law School… and went silent for a moment, knowing that when Sam mentioned it to dad that he would lose his crap.

      Silence fell over them for a while and Jeyne didn’t try to break it. Instead, knowing Dean didn’t want to talk, rested her head on his shoulder and snuggled into his side. Dean silently thanked her for her patience.

      After a few moments, they came to an end of a dirt road just in time to watch the sun set. Dean quickly grabbed a blanket from the back seat and placed it on the hood of the car. Jeyne grabbed her backpack of goodies and together they sat in silence until the sun disappeared beyond the horizon. The left over light created fractals of red, pink and magenta across the sky.

      Jeyne looked up at Dean, who was holding her close to his side, and smiled at the stubble on his chin. “Okay, would you like to open your presents?”

      Dean smiled down at her and nodded, letting her go. “Yeah, I would like that.”

      Jeyne reached into her backpack and pulled out two packages. One small and one large. She handed him the large one first. He excitedly tore the brown paper off and inside was a brown leather jacket. “Wow… You remembered?” he said with a smile. He slid off the hood and slipped his arms into the jacket. It fit him perfectly.

      “Yeah,” she chuckled. “I went back the next day and got the next size up. It would be a while before I gave it to you and you were growing like crazy. Guess it was a good idea.”

      Dean’s grin grew and he hugged Jeyne tightly. “I just… I can’t believe you got it.”

     Jeyne threw back her head and laughed. “I knew how much you liked it. You’d been eyeing it for months—tried it on I don’t know how many times. How could I not get it? I think I was saving up for that silver ring we saw there, but I knew I could get it at any time. You didn’t have much… and I knew it would make you happy. So, I got the jacket instead.”

     “Speaking of which, open _your_ present,” he said with a smile, shoving his hands into the pockets of his new jacket.

     Her eyes widened to the size of huge orbs as she dug through her backpack. She took out the smallest package wrapped in brown paper. There was writing on it, which read, “Merry Christmas,” in Dean’s chicken scratch. Inside the box there was an old gold chain with the very silver ring strung on to it. A squeal of delight erupted from her lips and she pulled Dean into a hug. He laughed and hugged her tightly.

     “Here, let me,” he said, holding his hand for the chain. She nodded her head and she turned her back to him. He carefully put the necklace around her neck and she thumbed the ring, the stupid grin on her face never fading. “It was… it was my mother’s necklace. I want you to have it.”

     Jeyne bit her lip. “Are you sure? I know how much she meant to you. You don’t have to give it to me, Dean.”

     He nodded sheepishly. “Yeah. I think she would have wanted you to have it. She’d like you… I think.”

     She nodded her head and her smile was softer now. They stared at each other for a few moments before Jeyne reached in to her bag. She pulled out a box that was wrapped meticulously in gold cloth. She took a deep breath before handing it to Dean. “Happy Birthday, Dean,” she said softly while placing the box into his hands.

     His green eyes looked down at the tissue. He wasn’t sure whether or not to be worried about the gift. The girl seemed nervous. About what? There wasn’t anything to be nervous about. “You might want to sit down for this.” Except for that.

     Dean sat slowly down on to the hood of the Impala. He slowly and carefully unwrapped the gift. What he saw next absolutely floored him. “I… I thought I lost it.” He said quietly, absolutely shocked by what he saw. Inside was an old amulet. It was gold and strung to a worn leather string. The very necklace Sam gifted him. The one that seemed to strangely glow whenever he was around Jeyne. His most prized possession.

     He couldn’t help the tears that came to his eyes. “Where did you find it?”

     Jeyne wrapped an arm around his waist and rested her chin on his shoulder after he put the necklace on. “You lost it that day at the shop. Mr Danes called me the day after you left, said he had it. I wanted to surprise you.”

     Before Jeyne could finish her sentence, Dean hugged her tightly. She had no idea how much this necklace meant to him. “Thanks,” he croaked.

     Jeyne smiled and held him as tightly as she could. “Happy Birthday, Dean.”


End file.
